


Diamond

by red_panda (hiddenoptimist)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassin Training, Assassins & Hitmen, Dark Past, Past Abuse, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenoptimist/pseuds/red_panda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamond has trained for these situations. So why is she struggling to complete what should be a routine mission? Is it because she's getting closer to the Empire and Roman, somewhere she never wants to return to? Or is it because she's being pulled deeper and deeper into a past she desperately wants to forget? One thing's for sure: this time she definitely bit off more than she could chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an original story that I'm playing with at the moment... tell me what you think?

The Avenue was glazed with sunlight that dripped through the leaves like thick, warm honey. There was still a fair amount of greenery concealing the Avenue from the outside world. It was almost a natural paradise, save for the distant roaring of cars and the quiet sounds of human interference: light footfalls of joggers, the bouncing of a football and the crunching of leaves underfoot.

These leaves littered the floor of the Avenue, giving the impression it was actually much later in the year. Birds chirped in the trees, melodic compared to the harsh screech of a crow in the distance. Insects floated from tree to tree, resting on one momentarily before buzzing to the next. From deep in the bushes came a rustling that could have been a squirrel.

Bike wheels whirred down the Avenue, children racing past the natural guardians. Six elegantly carved dead trees watched over the Avenue from the foliage, wise mythical creatures: a brooding wizard, the friendly Gruffalo, a delicate fairy, the cheeky elf, the merry faun and a majestic dragon guarded the pathway.

In front of the dragon was a matching bench composed of large dragon eggs. Some were cracked open, lifelike eyes peeking out curiously. A dragonling curled eternally in the centre of the bench.

On this bench sat a girl. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her, despite the growing numbness in her foot, and idly flicked through a paper file resting atop the dragonling's head. She was sure it wouldn't mind - it wasn't as though it had protested. Occasionally she glanced up at the path a few metres away, usually at the sound of approaching footsteps. In her line of work, you couldn't be too careful.

The file she possessed contained the details of her next mission. It had been delivered to her door that morning in a large cardboard envelope simply marked DIAMOND. Accompanying the file had been a cheque for half a million pounds. She'd been expecting it. Last week her newest client had contacted her about a problem he had - a routine issue in Diamond's line of work. She suspected it would take her three days and no more upon arriving in the country to complete the objective. Her speed and efficiency were what she was recommended for, after all.

Diamond closed the file and got to her feet, brushing a few stray leaves off her jumper as she did so. Autumn was her favourite month - it was typically a time for change, and also her busiest season. As she wandered back towards her house, smiling pleasantly at the families and pets she passed on the way, she went over her plan for the weekend. It was almost a normal getaway, if not for the murder it involved.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is chapter one, keep telling me what you think. I made a polyvore set of the bedroom, (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=132600990) and if you want more, clothes and stuff as well, I'll make more. Sometimes it helps with the imagery. Hope you guys like it x

Diamond hummed to herself as she folded her clothes, placing them neatly in the small cabin suitcase. She arranged them so they covered the false bottom of the case, having already packed the secret lead-lined compartment. There wasn’t a lot in there, as it was only a simple job, just her .44 Magnum Anaconda and two boxes of spare ammo. She doubted she’d need more than three bullets, but it was better to be safe than having to awkwardly explain why she was buying large bullets in a foreign country.

Sitting on the nightstand was the booking sheet for her plane ticket, declaring her plane to take off in five hours, just after the sun had risen. The flight went from the small airport outside of town to Ciampino, Italy, stopping in Birmingham for a transfer. The job was in Frascati, a small city a half hour away from Rome. It was far too close for her liking - Italy was a danger zone for Diamond, particularly the area around Rome - yet business was slow and she had no other option. She was the best, after all, and avoiding an entire country entirely wasn’t a good reputation to uphold. This one job would suffice for maybe two years, when she’d have to go back. Luckily, she wasn’t travelling through Rome itself, though he’d still know she was in the country. As long as she avoided him and his agrimensores, she knew she’d be fine.

Diamond stopped humming and slowed as she remembered the first time she’d come across an agrimensor. She’d been only thirteen at the time, trying to get as far away as possible from what she’d done, and had been hitchhiking on the French-Italian border. After too many dodgy vans and questioning drivers, she’d been wary when he pulled up alongside her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, with a French accent.

“East,” she replied. “As far as possible.”

He leaned across the seats and opened the passenger door of his sleek Mercedes. “Hop in.”

Once in the car, she relaxed against the leather seats. The new car smell would now have been suspicious to her, but back then it was just a relief not to smell stale coffee or body odour.

“Running from something?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance and taking in everything.

She nodded. “I did something bad.”

“I can help you, if you want. Give you a new life?”

She jumped at the chance and, thinking about it now, she realised what a fool she’d been. At the same time, she knew her life would probably have gotten worse and she may have ended up without she choice she did have if she hadn’t gotten into the Mercedes. It was his grin that made her feel uneasy, the horrible yet somehow gleeful smirk that played across his face when her obvious eagerness showed.

He drove her to a warehouse and told her to get out. While she stared around in confusion, he grabbed her from behind. She felt a prick in her neck as he injected her with a tranquiliser. When she woke up, she was in the back of a van with six other women in the same dishevelled state she was in. They’d all been picked up while hitchhiking or just while living on the streets, like her. She was the youngest there.

The journey lasted hours, the women in the van silent and solemn. Occasionally they heard loud guffawing coming from the cab of the van, usually accompanied by a sharp, cruel laugh belonging to the man who had picked her up. She curled into herself in a corner and met no one’s eye. The only thing going through her mind was what would happen to them when the van stopped. Were they police, picking up fugitives and returning them to receive their punishments? It was her greatest fear. The reality didn’t even occur to her.

The van stopped a full seven hours later, having arrived in a compound in Rome. She didn’t know this of course, but when the doors opened and three men with guns began herding the women out of the vehicle she knew she wasn’t moving. The men talked among themselves and although she hadn’t been on the border particularly long, she had heard a word she’d heard a lot about herself when she’d slept on the streets - “prostituta.” Prostitute.

One of the men motioned to her with his gun. She shook her head, shakily getting to her feet when he began swearing at her in Italian. As another man stepped into the van, intending to drag her out, she began to yell.

“I demand to see whoever’s in charge,” she said, her face twisting into a fearsome scowl. Admittedly her yell wasn’t very loud, having been drugged and silent for any number of hours, but it caught the attention of the men. “I refuse to move until I speak to whoever your boss is.”

The three men looked at each other and laughed. She flinched when the one in the van stepped towards her, and pulled from her belt the kitchen knife she’d taken with her when she’d started running. Blood had crusted on the tip, but the weapon no longer scared her like it once had. The man in the van took a cautionary step backwards and raised his gun.

“I’ve already killed someone and I won’t hesitate to do it again,” she threatened. Her knees quivered and she fought to show no fear. “Now let me speak to someone in charge.”

The men looked at each other and had a brief talk. She recognised vague words, but they were spoken too fast for her to translate and put together into coherent sentences. The trio nodded to each other and the man in the van stayed put as the other two walked the women away. Diamond looked her guard up and down, surprised when he seemed to relax against the wall of the van. She waved her knife, expecting him to stand to attention again, but he only laughed.

“You won’t do much harm with that, darling,” he said, in heavily accented English. “You’ll have a bullet in your brain before you even touch me with it.”

“Why haven’t you killed me then?” she asked quietly.

“Because you want to speak to the boss. And speak to the boss you shall. He doesn’t like troublemakers, so he’ll know what to do with you. You won’t become a whore though, it’s too late for that. Feisty girls aren’t controllable. You’ll either end up in hell, or he’ll kill you.”

She regarded him warily, then lowered her blade. He turned to watch the doorway across the garage. When the door opened ten minutes later, he stood straight, training his weapon on her. In walked a single man, calmly approaching the back of the van. She tensed, the man’s presence affecting her from across the room. He gave off an aura of complete authority despite his average appearance. She watched as he waved away her guard and stepped into the van himself.

Roman.

Diamond finished packing and sat down on the bed beside the case, eyeing the tickets. Italy was the last place she wanted to go. She was kidding herself if she thought she could enter his country and remain invisible. The case could take no more than three days. If it dragged on, there was every possibility she’d be dragged back into the Empire. She hadn’t been supposed to leave. Once you went in, there was no coming back out, whether you were part of the brothel or the school. She was risking what had been her only chance.

Sighing loudly, she checked the time. There was still another few hours before she had to leave. She flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Her bedroom was her favourite room in the renovated hotel in which she lived. She’d designed everything and done it all herself, having no want to trust anyone with the location of her house, including irrelevant designers. The bedroom was large, spanning two floors. Her queen-sized bed sat atop a raised platform, the royal purple duvet neatly made and the gold throw folded at the foot. She stepped down from the platform and onto the glass flooring. It was her particular favourite feature, three foot thick and unbreakable. The flatscreen TV was mounted against the opposite wall, a white leather sofa and glass coffee table sitting on a white shaggy rug swirled with grey. A small mahogany bookshelf was filled completely, the books on the top shelf held in place by two pewter owls.

On the other side of the room, a spiral staircase protruded from the glass floor. Diamond walked down it now, the metal cold on her bare feet. Her toes met thick, maroon carpet on the bottom floor and she stopped to look around. This room was the same size as the one above, but dimmer. Bookshelves lined the walls and a worn sienna armchair sat a few feet from the stairs, illuminated by a single lamp. During the day, it was quite light down here, but the lamp by the chair was the only source of light during the night and Diamond’s favourite pastime was to sit at night with hot chocolate or tea and envelop herself in a fantasy world. The books on the shelves were more organised than any library and she knew the room so well that she could find any given title within minutes. She picked up the book sitting on the small table next to the armchair and sat down, opening the pages to where she’d last left the tale.

An hour passed quickly and soon her alarm was bleeping from upstairs. Diamond slipped the bookmark back into place and closed the pages softly, turning off the lamp and taking the book back upstairs with her. She placed it at the top of her case, double checked that she had everything, and went downstairs to await the taxi that would begin her journey to where everything had started.


	3. Chapter Two

Diamond strode off the plane, case rattling along the ground behind her, book still clutched in her hand. She followed the signs directing her to immigration and customs, her head held high. During the three hour journey she’d decided that Roman could know about her presence in his territory if he wanted to. She would not complete this job terrified of his agrimensores. Besides, if they smelt fear they’d follow her trail.

She made it through customs without anyone questioning her. Part of her training had been to lie perfectly. It had been something she’d excelled at straight away, her natural talent seemingly being able to lie flawlessly well. The confidence she emitted chased away doubters and turned heads. Walking through that customs department she felt everyone briefly gaze after her and smirked.

The best way to blend in was to not blend in. If she’d hung back and been timid, people might remember her for that, either as a nervous flyer or a suspicious person, particularly in a place as twitchy as an airport. Striding through the airport gave the impression that she was a businesswoman rushing to a meeting or perhaps a member of the cabin crew, aided by the dark skirt and matching blazer she’d worn. Sights like these were common in airports, so the image would fade from memory after the next businesswoman walked past.

The heat hit her as soon as she stepped out the air conditioned arrivals lounge. Diamond removed her blazer and draped it over her arm, signalling the nearest taxi. The driver hopped out, took her case to put it in the boot, and asked where she was going.

“Frascati,” she replied, sliding into the back seat. “The Grand Hotel Villa Tuscolana.”

The journey took half an hour, the taxi weaving through traffic effortlessly. Diamond stared out the window, knowing that if she read over the case file she’d be sick. Cars were not her favourite thing. The taxi passed a few hitch-hikers and she felt something strange in her stomach. She supposed it was pity. Not all of these stranded girls would end up as prostitutes - some may be murdered - but the outlook was bleak for many. Agrimensores were already roaming, ready to pick up any prey they set eyes upon.

The taxi turned down a long side road and Diamond found herself faced with the Grand Hotel. The road was lined with topiaries, partially concealing the building but letting the glamour shine through. She’d never stayed here before but was familiar with the layout - a previous job had required it. A velvet-jacketed doorman came to open the taxi door for her, taking her bags from the boot of the car as she stared up at the hotel. The website had highlighted the hotel’s hundred guestrooms and spa as some of the main highlights, but Diamond was just impressed by the architecture. It was much like her house, numerous storeys high and probably divided into wings, the decorative flourishes of the pre-nineteenth century barely altered. The grounds were bright and well-kept.

The doorman coughed lightly, diverting her attention to him. The taxi pulled away as she wandered through the door he held open for her, presenting the handle of her suitcase to her as she passed him. She smiled her thanks and resumed her authoritative stride, happy to see the reception empty of everyone except the receptionist, who matched her bright smile.

“Welcome to the Grand Hotel Villa Tuscolana,” the receptionist beamed, her nails clicking against the keys as she tapped the keyboard of her computer. “How may I help you?”

“I have reservations,” Diamond replied. “Under Jones?”

The receptionist checked her screen before replying, “Martha Jones?”

Diamond travelled under various names, usually taken from television shows or films. She couldn’t travel under her own, it was far too risky and really too much of a hassle trying to convince someone that, yes, her name actually was Diamond and no, she didn’t have a surname. Nobody had picked up on her trick yet and she planned to keep it that way.

The receptionist continued typing and Diamond glanced around, admiring the decor and also locating exits and potential CCTV cameras. The polished reception desk was tucked into an alcove surrounded by knee-high ferns. More plants guarded the doors leading out of the reception. An arch a few feet from the desk framed a set of regal armchairs. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and exquisite paintings hung from the walls. Her exit options were looking good. The front door did not appear heavy or awkward to open. The various doors leading away from the reception presented a variety of exits. There was a CCTV camera tucked into the corner of the ceiling, focused on the desk. Diamond avoided looking directly at it.

The receptionist presented Diamond with her room key and began explaining meal times and directions to various places. Diamond was half-listening, still working out her plan for the weekend. The free shuttle into town provided by the hotel was perfect for her means. Until she was out of the hotel grounds, she would only speak English. While not in the hotel grounds, she would only speak Italian. If she could appear to only know one language while in one place, there would be less chance of anyone in town connecting her to the hotel and vice versa.

“Enjoy your stay,” the receptionist smiled, going back to her work.

Diamond turned her room key over in her hand as she made her way towards the elevators. Her room was on the third floor, exactly where she liked it. She saw no one as her heels clipped on the corridor floor on the way to her room.

Her room was bright and airy, a soft breeze blowing through the open windows. Bouquets of plastic flowers were dotted about, adding yet more colour to the place. The bed was large, the duvet a soft blue. All the furniture was made from a dark wood, varnished and slightly scuffed. The safe, one of the first things she located, was embedded in the wall behind the door.

Diamond began to unpack. There was no point in living out of a suitcase, it would appear weird. She hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside door handle, where it would stay for the duration of her trip. The last thing she needed was nosy cleaning staff. When she reached the hidden compartment in the bottom of her case, she stopped and checked the room for electronic bugs. Finding nothing, she proceeded to place her gun, spare ammunition and file into the safe, placing the key next to the room key on the bedside table.

By the time she’d finished, it was nine o’clock. The information booklet on the desk confirmed that breakfast finished at ten. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation and she tucked both keys into her jacket pocket before heading down to the dining hall.

The room was more like a large ballroom filled with tidy tables and plush, red chairs. Heavy drapes hung from ceiling to floor, drawn back to expose the large windows and letting sunlight cover the room. A few guests were milling about, still travelling frequently between their table and the buffet. Diamond was shown to a table by the wall, at which she took the seat facing the door. There were strictly four chairs to every table, but she ignored the other three, glancing up and nodding when a large family followed her downstairs and asked if they could borrow one. The children of this family screeched all through the meal, and Diamond, who had originally planned to stay downstairs and refine her schedule for the weekend, decided to skip the fruit salad and escape back up to the peace and quiet of her own room.

Back upstairs, she discovered a folder tucked into a drawer. The folder was filled with maps and leaflets for attractions, but the item that interested her the most was a map showing the layout of Rome and how to get there from the hotel. With ease, she located the large estate surprisingly near the middle of Rome where she had spent most of the past few years. It was where everything had started, really. If she’d never ended up there… she’d be dead, actually. The credit she gave to Roman consisted solely of giving her something to live for and helping her live long enough to see her talent blossom - though it wasn’t commonplace.

Diamond would stay away from there as long as she was able to. And who knew? Maybe when she’d finished in Frascati and had been found by the argimensores, she’d drop in for one last visit.


End file.
